


Productivity

by Not_You



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Begging, Multi, Voyeurism, steve is old-fashioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 22:11:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a kinkmeme prompt where Natasha is Phil and Clint's Alpha, which the team only figures out when Phil and Clint's heats synch up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Productivity

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into English available: [Productivity (Chinese Translation)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475218) by [lzqsk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lzqsk/pseuds/lzqsk)



They've all been wondering where Clint and Coulson are on the dynamic scale. They're clearly with Natasha, but all of them are so secretive that they could be an all-Beta triad. They never smell like anything, and just smile enigmatically when asked. But today two-thirds of the question is answered. Clint and Coulson are tangled together on the couch and the room is full of the sweet scent of their heat. Both of them are flushed, and Coulson's tie is actually yanked down to half mast, his top three buttons undone. The first two fingers of one hand are buried in Clint's mouth, and he's sucking hungrily while Coulson watches with dilated eyes.

"Well, well, well," Tony purrs, the smug Beta bastard. "So that's what you boys have been hiding."

"Hush," Coulson murmurs, and Clint snaps out of it enough to open his eyes and flip Tony off, but not enough to actually let Coulson's fingers out of his mouth.

"Someone is coming to look after you, right?"

Bruce facepalms and Tony groans aloud at Steve's old-fashioned sentiments. The implication that an Omega on Omega pairing is somehow incomplete is offensive as hell, but they all know that it comes from a very deep and instinctive place. Steve blushes, and Tony leers when a glance down confirms that the kid is hard as a rock.

Coulson slides his fingers out slow and lewd, and leans in to kiss Clint's wet mouth. "Tasha's coming for us," Clint gasps, voice hoarse and used.

"Good," Steve says, his voice a faint whimper. A loud, angry snarl makes everyone jump, and Natasha comes stalking over, the smell of rut coming off of her in waves. "...Ohshit." Steve dodges the first kick but not the second, and ends up on the floor. He stays there, because he's not a complete fool, and Bruce flings his body across Steve's. They lie there for a still and endless moment, hearts pounding. Bruce's glasses have slid down his nose, and he uses a little toss of his head to put them in position again, looking appealingly up at Natasha. He even lets out an appealing little whine, a sweet, insinuating sound. Steve purrs and nuzzles into his neck, playing up his very real enjoyment of Bruce's weight and scent, even taking a little taste, lightly licking his neck.

Natasha glares for a long moment, but at last accepts that they are no threat to her Omegas. She looks to Tony next, and he holds up peaceable and empty hands. "No problem here, ma'am."

Clint actually _giggles_ , the asshole, watching over the back of the couch. Natasha smiles, and tears his shirt yanking the collar to one side to bite his neck. She does it good and hard, and holds on for a long time as Clint's gasp of surprise fades into a moan and then into a high, needy keening noise, the scent thickening. They can't see Coulson but they can hear desperate whimpering and frustrated swearing, his jacket, vest and tie flying over the couch and narrowly missing Steve's head. Steve lets out a soft whine of his own, and cautiously stands up and takes Bruce's hand. Natasha pays them no mind.

"Come on, Tony."

"Are you kidding? _This_ is entertainment!"

"...Tony, don't be such a leering jackass that I don't let you fuck me."

For once in his life, Tony shuts up and follows orders. Bruce grins, and lets Steve tow him off to what used to be Tony's room and is now their room for some nice, mid-cycle, non-desperate sex.

They know full well that Clint and Coulson and Natasha will still be going when they're done, but are a bit surprised to find that she's left the soundproofing off in her possessiveness. She clearly wants everyone within earshot to know just who her Omegas belong to, and Steve blushes horribly because he knows what that's like. Tony just grins as he fixes their drinks, juicing lemons for Steve and boiling water for Bruce.

Loud, helpless wails cut through the air, one right after the other, as fast as breath. " _Deeper_! Oh fuck, oh fuck Tasha deeper, open me up and make me take it, make me take it! Use me, use your bitch oh _fuck_ \--" His words break into whimpering sobs.

Steve swallows hard, wiping his suddenly flushed face. "Who'd have thought Coulson had it in him?"

"By 'it' do you mean Natasha's knot? Man, I bet she's hung. The really aggressive ones always are."

Bruce rolls his eyes. "The biggest fucking cock you've never seen."

There's more sobbing and moaning that must be Coulson, and then Natasha's telling him to suck Clint's cock and the sounds are suddenly muffled. Clint is dead silent for a moment, and then he's keening again, high and anguished "Close to coming, pretty bird?"

"I can't," he sobs, sounding almost hysterical, "I can't, I can't, goddammit you know I can't without something inside me _please_ please please please Tasha, I can't do this, I can't and it fucking hurts and I need you..." He's crying all-out now, sounding broken and starved, and there are soft sounds from Natasha, soothing words they can't make out.

Steve shakes himself out of his paralysis. "Come on, this is private. We should've left before now."

"Fucking hot is what it is," Tony mutters, but lets Bruce grab him and haul him away, herbal tea in his free hand. Tony makes fussing noises until Bruce lets him stop long enough to make a Cuba Libre as Clint whimpers sharp and high, and then lets out a groan almost too long and low to be real. Steve shivers, and Clint is making these noises that are almost cooing, babbling and moaning in pathetic and inarticulate gratitude. Bruce chuckles.

"We're not getting anything done today, are we?"

"Probably not," Steve concedes, and pauses just long enough to bite Bruce's neck and make him shudder before dragging them both back to bed.


End file.
